United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
"Touchy about it just the same, I see; however we'll pass up the lady.
Carter, there has been a spy in here to-night, calling himself Lieutenant
Fortesque, of the 42nd Regiment. He came through the lines this morning
with despatches for Howe, I understand. Did you meet him?"
"No, sir, but one of my men was riding about with him all day--Watts; I
heard him telling about it an hour ago."
"Is that so? Where'd they go?"
"Covered everything, I judge, from Callowhill to the Lower Battery. Watts
said he asked questions of everybody they met, but he didn't take any
notes. He liked the fellow, but thought he was mighty inquisitive. Where
is he now, sir?"
"The devil knows, I don't, and you'll have to find out. He'll head
northwest likely; he'll never try to cross the river here. How many men
have you?"
"Twenty."
"Scatter them to every north post. The fellow had no horse, and your
troopers can easily get ahead of him. Hurry up now." Carter departed with
click of steel, and MacHugh evidently turned to his companion.
"We'll catch the lad all right, Grant. Some of those outposts will nab
him before daylight. No use our waiting around here; let's go back
upstairs."
The girl's nervous grasp on my arm tightened, her lips pressed close to
my ear.
"I--I must get back to my place at the table," she whispered. "Surely you
know what to do; this is a rear door; there are stables a hundred feet
away; you must get a horse, and ride fast--you--you will do this!"
"Yes, of course--but how can I thank you?"
"Don't try; don't ever even think of it again. I hardly know what mad
impulse sent me here. Now I have but one thought--to hurry you away, and
get safely back myself--you will go?"
"Yes--but--"
"Not now! there is no time for explanation, promises, anything. You heard
what they said; every avenue of escape will be blocked within an hour. If
you go at once you can outride them--please, please go!"
She held out her hand, and I grasped it warmly, unable longer to war
against the pitiful appeal in her voice.
"Yes, I'll go, at once. But I take away with me a memory which will never
permit me to be satisfied until we meet again. We have been together so
short a time--"
"Had it been longer," she interrupted, "you would know me better, and
care less, perhaps. I am a sham; a cheat," a trifle of bitterness in the
tone. "You will learn all that some day, and laugh at yourself. Oh, I
know you will; so not another word, sir. I am going; then, perhaps, you
will."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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